


The Pink Sapphire

by nomave



Category: due South
Genre: Case Fic, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-20
Updated: 2013-01-20
Packaged: 2017-11-26 04:33:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/646612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nomave/pseuds/nomave
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's two days after Christmas and Fraser starts to investigate a mystery involving a mobile phone, a Christmas turkey, and a rare gemstone.</p><p>With apologies to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Pink Sapphire

Detective Ray Vecchio called upon his friend Constable Benton Fraser, RCMP, on the second morning after Christmas, with the intention of wishing the Mountie the compliments of the season. He found Fraser sitting behind his desk in his office at the Canadian Consulate. Fraser was clad in his red dress uniform jacket, and there was a pile of untouched paperwork at his right hand. In front of him on the desk was an old and scratched cell phone, somewhat the worse for wear, its casing cracked near the antenna. The magnifying glass also on the desk suggested that the phone had recently been the subject of some intense Mountie-like examination.  
“Am I interrupting something?” the detective asked.  
“Not at all, Ray. In fact I’m glad you’re here to help me with a small mystery.” Fraser gestured towards the cell phone.  
Ray eased himself into the visitor’s chair on the other side of the Mountie’s desk, and gathered his coat around him. Fraser never seemed to feel the cold and kept the temperature in his room at a level Ray considered somewhere around the point where icicles should be forming. “I’m guessing,” Ray conjectured, “that practical as it looks, this phone has some deadly story attached to it, and it’s a clue that’s going to help you solve some mystery, or punish some petty crime.” Ray was in a relaxed mood following a few days’ vacation over Christmas, so was happy for once to indulge Fraser’s crime fighting whims.  
“No, no. No crime,” Benton Fraser replied earnestly, “Just the type of small incident which happens when you have a large population jostling each other within the space of a few hectares. Every possible combination of events can be expected to take place, and many a problem emerges which may be striking or bizarre without being criminal. As you know, we have already experienced several such incidents.”  
“You’re not wrong there Benny,” Ray agreed, as Diefenbaker rested his wolfish head on his knee, hoping the detective had brought doughnuts. “In my last six cases with you, three haven’t actually involved an actual crime.”  
“And I have no doubt this will fall into the same innocent category. You know Peterson, the parking inspector?”  
“Yes.”  
“It is to him that I owe this item.”  
“It’s his phone?”  
“No. He found it. It needs to be restored to Its owner. We need to look at it, not as a battered medium of communication, but as an intellectual problem. As to how it came to be on my desk, it arrived on Christmas morning, in company with a turkey, which is, I believe, now roasting in Mrs Peterson’s oven.” Fraser paused to gather his thoughts, “The facts are as follows. About one o’clock on Christmas morning, Peterson was returning from a work Christmas celebration and was driving home. Coming around a corner, he saw on the pavement a tall man with a walking stick, carrying a packaged turkey under his other arm. As he watched, a gang of youths accosted the man. One of them knocked the man’s cell phone out of his hand, and he dropped the turkey at the same time. The man swung his cane in an effort to defend himself, and accidentally smashed a shop window. Peterson stopped his car and got out to try and protect the stranger from his assailants, but the man, shocked at having broken the window and seeing an official-looking person in uniform rushing towards him, ran off into the labyrinth of alleys in the area. The group of youths also fled at the appearance of Peterson, so that the parking inspector was left in possession of the spoils of victory in the shape of this battered phone and an upmarket Christmas turkey.”  
“Which he should have returned to the owner.”  
“Well, that’s the problem, Ray. Whilst it is true that ‘For Mrs John Baker” was printed in indelible ink on the packaging of the turkey, and the initials J.B. are scratched into the casing of the cell phone, there are hundreds of John Bakers in Chicago, so it’s not that easy to restore the lost property to one of them.”  
“So what did Peterson do?”  
“He brought around both the phone and turkey to me on Christmas morning, as he thought I might be able to help with the problem. I gave Peterson back the turkey, as it was more than Diefenbaker and myself could consume, while I have kept the phone of the unknown man who lost his Christmas dinner.”  
“So nobody stuck any ‘Lost – Christmas Turkey’ posters up on any nearby lamp posts?”  
Fraser took Ray’s little joke seriously, “No, Ray, I don’t believe so.”  
“Then I guess you don’t have any clues to his identity.”  
“Only as much as we can deduce, Ray.”  
“From his cell phone?” Ray didn’t make much effort to keep the scepticism out of his voice.  
“Exactly.”  
Ray laughed, “You’re crazy, Fraser. What are you going to be able to tell from this old piece of crap?”  
“Take my magnifying glass, Ray. What can you gather yourself about the individual who owns this item?”  
With a sigh, Ray picked up the phone and turned it over resignedly, figuring he would play along with Fraser for the time being. It was a cell phone of a popular brand, clearly quite well used. The plastic was faded and discoloured, and, as Fraser had said, the initials J.B. were scratched on one side. Apart from the crack in the casing, there were white spatters on it, although there had been an attempt to hide these using a marker pen.  
“I can’t see anything, Fraser.” Ray tossed the phone and magnifying glass back on the desk  
“On the contrary, Ray, you can see everything. You just haven’t reasoned from what you see.”  
“Fine,” Ray replied, in an exasperated tone, “ tell me what you can find out from the phone.”  
Fraser picked up the item in question an looked at it closely. “There are a few direct inferences we can make, and a few others that represent at least a strong balance of probability. This man has obviously been fairly well to do within the last three years, although he has now fallen upon hard times. He had foresight, but less so than formerly, possibly pointing to other problems in his life, which, when taken with the downturn of his fortunes, may also account for the fact that his wife no longer loves him. He has also recently painted his house.”  
“Fraser, that’s insane, you can’t possibly know all of that by looking at this phone! Well, apart from the paint. Any idiot can see that.”  
“But Ray, surely now that I have explained, you can see how I reached these conclusions?” Fraser seemed surprised that his friend couldn’t see what he had observed.  
“Well, I guess even if I say I don’t want to know, you’re probably going to tell me anyway. So let’s get this over with - why do you think he used to be ‘well to do’?”  
“This phone is of a type that was popular three years ago. It was a top of the line model then. If the man could afford to buy such an expensive phone three years ago, but hasn’t updated it since, he has certainly gone down in the world.”  
Ray had to concede that point. “Alright. Fair enough. What about the, what did you call it? Foresight?”  
Fraser picked up the phone, “Here is the foresight.” He showed Ray the top of the phone, where there was a small metal d-ring, with a frayed fabric tag on it. “These straps are never sold with cell phones, but they’re meant to be used so people can loop them around their wrists to help carry and secure the phone. If this man bought one, it is a sign of foresight, as he went out of the way to take this precaution against leaving the phone somewhere. But since we can see he has broken the strap and has not troubled to replace it, it is obvious he has less foresight now than previously, and that he now takes less care of his possessions, which would also account for the paint spatters, potentially pointing to other unknown issues. On the other hand, however, he has tried to conceal some of the paint marks by covering them with ink, which is a sign he has not entirely lost his self-respect.”  
Ray was getting drawn into the story despite himself. “But why do you think his wife has stopped loving him?”  
“Simple Ray. I examined the call log, and whilst there are a large number of calls to a lady, there are almost none returned from the same person. And those there are were very short calls.”  
“It might not be his wife,” Ray pointed out.  
“Remember that the turkey Peterson showed me said ‘Mrs John Baker’ on it. Acquiring such a good quality turkey, that was clearly not from a supermarket, would seem to indicate the man has a family, so may have been a peace offering.”  
“So did it occur to you to call the number and ask for John Baker? That would get this guy’s phone back to him.”  
“That is now my intention Ray, although I hope not to get Mr Baker in trouble with his wife by doing so.”  
“Well, you certainly seem to have an answer to everything, Benny, but as you said, no crime has actually been committed, and there’s no harm done save a lost turkey. This all seems like a waste of time to me.”  
Fraser had just opened his mouth to reply when Peterson the parking inspector rushed into the office. His face was red and bore an expression of astonishment. Fraser and Ray turned to look at him, surprised by his entrance.  
“The turkey, Constable Fraser! The turkey!” Peterson gasped.  
“What’s happened to it?” Fraser asked.  
“Has it returned to life and flown away?” Ray couldn’t resist adding.  
“Look at this, look what my wife found inside when she started to stuff it!” Peterson held out his hand, showing the Detective and the Mountie a brilliant pink gemstone, about the size of a large bean. It sparkled brightly under the office lights.  
Fraser and Ray leaned forward,  
“Do you realise what this is?” Fraser asked.  
“A precious stone!”  
“It’s more than that, it’s the precious stone?”  
“Not the stolen pink sapphire?” Ray interrupted.  
“Exactly Ray. I’ve been following the story in the newspapers. This stone is extremely rare due to its dark rose colour, and its value Is immense. The reward of $5000 offered for its return is nowhere near its market price.”  
“$5000. Wow.” Peterson sat down heavily on a chair, staring at the two officers of the law.  
“That’s the reward,” Ray elaborated, “but I happen to know that there are sentimental reasons which would make the Lasorsa family part with a lot more if this stone could be recovered.”  
“Wasn’t it lost at Ritz-Carlton hotel?” Fraser asked the detective.  
“Yes, on the 22nd December, five days ago. Gary Horner, a plumber, was accused of having taken it from Mrs Lasorsa’s jewellery box. The evidence was pretty strong.”  
“There’s an article about it here,” Fraser reached for a newspaper from the bookcase behind him, and read from it, ‘Ritz-Carlton Jewel Robbery. Gary Horner, 26, plumber, was brought before court on a charge of having, on the 22nd December, taken from the jewellery box of Mrs Frances Lasorsa, a valuable sapphire. James Ryder, the Customer Service Manager of the hotel, gave evidence that he had shown Horner up to the room of Mrs Lasorsa on the day of the robbery, in order that he could fix a leaking shower head. He had remained with Horner for some time before being called away. On returning he found Horner had disappeared, that the lockable desk drawer had been forced open, and that the small jewellery box, in which Mrs Lasorsa kept the jewel, was lying empty on top of the desk. Ryder called the police and Horner was arrested that evening, but the sapphire could not be found either on him, or at his apartment. Mrs Lasorsa’s secretary said she had heard Ryder’s cry of dismay on discovering the robbery, and to having rushed into the room, where she found everything as described by Ryder. Detective Brady, of the Chicago Police, gave evidence as to the arrest of Horner, who protested his innocence in the strongest terms. Evidence of a previous conviction for robbery having been given against the prisoner, the magistrate referred the matter to a full trial.’”  
Fraser put the paper back down, “The question for us now to solve is the sequence of events leading from an empty jewel box at one end to the innards of a turkey at the other. Ray, our deductions have suddenly become much more important. Here is the sapphire, the sapphire came from the turkey, and the turkey from Mr John Baker, the man with the old cell phone and all those other characteristics. We need to talk to this man, and find out what part he played in this mystery. We should now call him.”  
Ray sighed again, “Or we could just report this to the guy leading the investigation, but I guess I’m going to end up doing it your way, so let’s just get on with it.”  
Fraser found the relevant number in the phone’s call log and dialled, “Mrs Baker?...My name is Benton Fraser. I wonder if your husband has lost his cell phone?....Yes, I have it, and he can collect it by coming at 6:30 this evening to 221 West Racine…Yes, that’s correct. Thank you.” Fraser rang off.  
Peterson was eyeing the jewel on Fraser’s desk in awe, “And the sapphire?”  
“I will lock it in the Consulate safe. Oh, and would you be able to buy a turkey to leave here with me, as we should really have one to give back to Mr Baker in place of the one your family is eating. Ray, could you give Mr Peterson some money?”  
“Sure, it’s not like I have anything else to spend it on – bills, food, clothes…” Ray handed Peterson a couple of notes.  
When the parking inspector had gone, Fraser held up the stone to the light, “It’s amazing how often jewels are the focus of crime, Ray. This one, for example, was only cut twenty years ago. It was found on the bank of a river in Australia, and already has a sinister history. There have been two murders, a suicide and several robberies brought about because of this lump of aluminium oxide. I’ll lock it in the safe now, and telephone the relevant police district to say that we have it.”  
“I’m guessing you think this guy Horner is innocent.”  
“I don’t know Ray.”  
“Well then, this Baker guy probably has something to do with the robbery.”  
“I think it’s more likely John Baker is completely innocent, and had no idea the turkey he was carrying was of more value than if it was made of solid gold. But I will determine that if he turns up to collect his cell phone.”  
“And there’s nothing we can do until then?”  
“Nothing.”  
“In that case I’m going back to the precinct. But I’ll be at your place in time to see this guy turn up, just in case he’s an international jewel thief. I could use that type of arrest on my résumé.”

Ray climbed the stairs to Fraser’s apartment a little after 6:30. As he walked down the corridor he saw a tall man wearing a shabby coat and leaning on a walking stick, ahead of him, approaching the Mountie’s rooms.  
“Mr John Baker?” Fraser said, opening the door, “Please take a seat. Ray, you’ve come just at the right time.” Fraser picked up the cell phone from his kitchen table, “Is this your phone, Mr Baker?”  
“Yes, that definitely looks like my phone. I scratched my initials on it.” He turned it over to check. “I didn’t think I’d get it back. I thought the gang who attacked me would have taken both the phone and the turkey.”  
“Ah yes, I’m afraid the turkey has been eaten.”  
“Eaten?” the man looked up in dismay.  
“Yes, we were worried it may have been past its use by date. But hopefully this other turkey, which is about the same size and weight, and just bought today, will replace it?”  
“Yeah, that’s great!” answered Mr Baker, with a sigh of relief.  
“Of course, the remains of the other turkey are still available if you want them.”  
The man laughed. “Except as relics of nearly getting mugged I can’t see what possible use that would be. I think I’ll stick with the replacement you’ve offered.”  
Fraser glanced at Ray and shrugged, “Here is your phone then, and your turkey,” the Mountie paused briefly, “By the way, I noticed your original turkey was not from a supermarket. Could you tell me where you got it? It seemed like it was much better quality than you normally see in Chicago.”  
“Of course,” Baker said, “Some of us go once a month to a place called the Bison Bar outside of the city, at Hinckley, not far from where I work at Aurora Airport. The manager at the bar started up a Christmas club last year, with the idea that if we all contributed a few dollars a week, we’d get a Christmas hamper at the end of the year. I’d brought home the rest of the hamper earlier in the week, but my car was being repaired so I wasn’t able to carry it all at once. The night of the attack I was bringing home the turkey. The rest you know. I’m just glad to have the phone again. It’s old now, but I rely on it. Thanks for making sure it got back to me.” He picked up his goods and left the apartment.  
“So much for Mr John Baker,” said Fraser, when the door had closed behind him, “It doesn’t sound like he knows anything about the matter. How far away is Hinckley, Ray?”  
“Probably about an hour and a half’s drive. Assuming not much traffic.”  
“Can you take me out there tomorrow?”  
“I do have a job you know.”  
“You did say you’d like to catch a jewel thief.”  
Ray glared at the Mountie who had once more successfully manipulated him. He groaned, “Alright, I guess I’m in this for the long haul.”  
“Thank you Ray.”

It was a bitter day, and Ray buttoned up his coat against the cold. Fraser was wearing a thick Aran sweater, jeans and warm boots, but as usual seemed impervious to the temperature in the Windy City. As they left the confines of Chicago for the suburbs they could see a slate grey sky indicating snow was on its way. They found the Bison Bar easily on the main road in Hinckley, arriving just as it was opening. Fraser went up to the bar and ordered drinks for himself and Ray.  
“I hope your hospitality is as good as your turkeys,” he remarked, to Ray’s obvious amusement.  
“My turkeys?” the man seemed surprised.  
“Yes, I was speaking yesterday to Mr John Baker, who was a member of your Christmas Club.”  
“Oh, right! But they’re not my turkeys.”  
“Oh? Where are they from?”  
“Well, I got two dozen from the local butcher just down the road here.”  
“That would be the one we passed on the way into town,” Fraser observed.  
“Yeah dude, Brackett’s Quality Butchers.”

“Don’t tell me,” Ray said, as they left the bar, “You want to pay a visit to the butcher.”  
“Yes Ray. Remember that whilst we might have a simple food item like a turkey at one end of the chain, at the other is a man who will go to prison unless we can establish his innocence. Possibly our enquiry might just confirm his guilt, but in any case we do have a line of investigation missed by the officer working on the case which we’ve come across by chance. We have a duty to follow this through.”  
The two men walked down the street to where the butcher was located and went inside.  
“It’s a cold day, isn’t it?” Fraser remarked to the man behind the counter.  
The thick set shopkeeper nodded, “Yeah. Can I help you?”  
“Sold out of turkeys I see,” Fraser continued, nodding towards an empty tray under the glass counter, labelled with the name of that particular bird.  
“I’ll have plenty more tomorrow morning.”  
“No, I’m afraid that will be too late.”  
“Well, head back towards the city and there’s plenty of places that’ll have some.”  
“Ah well, I was recommended to you.”  
“Who by?”  
“The manager of the Bison Bar.”  
“Oh yeah, I sold him two dozen. Special order.”  
“They were very high quality. Where did you get them from?”  
To the surprise of Fraser and Ray, this provoked the butcher into anger, “Now look here,” he shook a tattooed fist at the policemen, “What are you getting at? You’d better tell me!”  
“It’s a straightforward question, sir. I should just like to know who sold you the turkeys supplied to the Bison Bar.”  
“Well, I’m not going to tell you.”  
Fraser took a long look at the man, undecided as to how to proceed. Ray took over.  
“Well, it’s not that important. No need to get angry about it.” Ray noticed Fraser about to interject and waved a hand to indicate the Mountie should shut up.  
“Angry?! You’d be angry too if you were being bothered like I am. When I pay good money for good poultry, that should be the end of it, but people come around asking ‘Where are the turkeys?’ and ‘Who did you sell the turkeys to?’ and ‘What do you want for the turkeys?’ You’d think they were the only turkeys in the world, to hear the fuss over them.”  
“Look buddy, I’ve got no connection with any other people who have been making enquiries,” Ray told the man, ”If you won’t tell us then the bet is off, that’s all. But I’m always ready to back my opinion in the matter of turkeys, and I’ve bet my friend here twenty dollars that the turkey I ate was bred In Michigan.”  
“Well then, you’ve lost your money because the birds came from Illinois. Just down the road right here near Hinckley.”  
“It was not!” Ray insisted.  
“I’m telling you it was!”  
“I don’t believe you!”  
“I’m telling you, the turkeys that went to the Bison Bar were from Illinois.”  
“You can’t make me believe that,” Ray exclaimed dramatically  
“You want to bet me then?”  
“I’ll just be taking your money, because I know I’m right, but I’ll bet ten dollars with you, just to prove you wrong.”  
The butcher laughed grimly. He went to the back of the shop, returning with two hardback notebooks. He flipped through the pages, “I thought I was out of turkeys, but before I finish I think you’ll find there’s one left in the shop. See this book?”  
“Yeah, well?” Ray sounded sceptical.  
“This is the list of where I source all my stock, and these numbers refer to the bulk sales and special orders listed in the other ledger. Look at that third name down. You read it out.”  
“Mrs B Oakley, Fat Fowl Free Range Poultry, Hinckley, Illinois,” Ray read out as instructed.  
“Now here’s the other ledger – you look up that number.”  
Ray turned the pages until he found the relevant entry, “Special Order, December 22. Twenty four turkeys.”  
“And under it?”  
“Sold to Bison Bar.”  
“So what do you have to say about that?”  
Ray Vecchio looked deeply annoyed. He took a ten dollar note from his wallet and threw it down upon the counter, turning away with the look of a man whose disgust is too deep for words. He and Fraser left the shop. Ray stopped a few metres down the road and chuckled quietly to himself.  
“You owe me ten dollars, Fraser,” he said.  
“But Ray, how did you know he would tell you?” Fraser asked.  
“Benny, the man had a betting slip, a raffle ticket stub and a lottery ticket stuck to the noticeboard above the cash register. He was clearly up for a bet. You could have offered him a hundred dollars and he wouldn’t have given out as much information as if he thought he was winning that ten dollar bet. See, I’m not the only one who can observe things.”  
“Hmmm, your methods do sometimes surprise me Ray, but they are very effective. We should probably go and investigate the poultry farm now. The butcher seemed to think other people had been after the same information, which might mean…”  
Fraser’s analysis was cut short by a commotion from the shop they had just left. Turning around they saw a small, weedy looking man standing just outside the door of the shop, whilst the butcher, framed in the doorway, was shaking his fist at the cringing figure.  
“I’ve had enough of you and your turkeys,” he shouted, “I wish you’d all go to hell together. If you come round here with any more of your stupid talk I’ll call the police. You bring Mrs Oakley here and I’ll answer her, but I’m damned if I know what you have to do with it. I didn’t buy those turkeys off you!”  
“No, but one of them was mine all the same,” whined the small man.  
“Then ask Mrs Oakley for it.”  
“She told me to ask you.”  
“Well you can ask the Queen of England for all I care. I’ve had enough of you! Get out!” He rushed forward and the man scuttled away.  
“This may save us a visit to the poultry farm,” said Fraser, “Come on Ray, if we hurry, we can catch up to him.” Fraser jogged off, followed by Ray. Fraser quickly overtook the little man and tapped him on the shoulder. The man jumped at the touch, all colour draining from his face.  
“Who are you? What do you want?” he asked in a shaky voice.  
“Excuse me, Sir,” Fraser said in his usual polite manner, “But I couldn’t help overhearing the questions which you put to the butcher just now. I think I could be of assistance to you.”  
“You? Who are you? How do you know anything about it?”  
“My name is Benton Fraser, and this is my friend Ray Vecchio, and I have developed something of a reputation for knowing what other people do not know.” Fraser carefully concealed their police connection as he feared it would spook the man.  
“But you know nothing of this.” The man was trying to edge away from them.  
“I believe I know everything about it. You are endeavouring to chase some turkeys which were sold by Mrs Oakley, of Fat Fowl Poultry Farm, to a butcher named Brackett, by him in turn to the Bison Bar, and by him to his Christmas Club, of which Mr John Baker is a member.”  
“Oh,” the man seemed to consider his options, “Then maybe you are the man I have wanted to meet. My part of the story is quite long though.”  
“In that case we had better discuss it back in Chicago rather than here in the street. But tell me who it is that I am assisting?”  
The man looked blank,  
“He means, what’s your name?” Ray butted in to clarify.  
The man hesitated for a moment. “My name is Jack Robinson,” he answered, looking shifty.  
“No, your real name.” Fraser responded, “It is always difficult to do business with an alias.”  
The man went red at being caught out, “My real name is Jim Ryder.”  
“The Customer Service Manager at the Ritz Carlton. Come to my friend’s car, and we should be able to tell you everything you want to know.”  
The small man glanced from Fraser to Ray and back again with half frightened, half hopeful eyes, as if he was unsure if he was on the verge of a windfall or a catastrophe. Then he followed them back to the Buick Riviera.

In an hour and a half they were back at the Canadian Consulate. Little had been said during the drive, but the nervous breathing of Ryder and the clasping and unclasping of his hands spoke of the man’s uneasiness.  
“Here we are,” Fraser said cheerfully, as they filed into the room, to be greeted by an enthusiastic Diefenbaker, who had not been prevented from coming on the poultry hunt. “You look cold, Mr Ryder, take this chair and I will turn on the heating. So you want to know what became of the turkeys?”  
“Yes, yes I do.”  
“Or rather, of one particular turkey. It was only one in which you were interested?” Fraser suggested.  
“Can you tell me where it went?”  
“It came here.”  
“Here?”  
“Yes,” Fraser paced back and forth across the room like a tall, clean shaven and Canadian version of Hercule Poirot, “and a most remarkable bird it proved to be. I’m not surprised you took an interest in it. It laid an egg after it was dead – the brightest egg I have ever seen. I have it here in the safe.”  
Fraser’s visitor staggered to his feet, clutching the back of his chair as all colour drained from his face. Fraser unlocked the safe and held up the pink sapphire, which glistened like a star. Ryder stood gaping at it, uncertain whether to claim or disown it.  
“I believe the phrase generally used is ‘the game is up’, Mr Ryder,” said Fraser calmly, “Take your seat again, you look quite pale.”  
Ray helped Ryder to sit back down as Fraser continued to speak.  
“I’ve made almost every link, and can access all the proof and witnesses we could need, so there isn’t much you now need to tell me, but it may as well be cleared up to make the case complete. You had heard of this stone of Mrs Lasorsa’s?”  
“It was her secretary who told me about it,” Ryder said, in a shaky voice.  
“I see. The temptation of sudden wealth easily acquired was obviously too much for you, but you were not very scrupulous in the means you used. It would seem, Mr Ryder, that you have the makings of a criminal. You knew that Horner, the plumber, had been concerned in some crimes before, and that suspicion would naturally fall on him, so you, along with your associate, the secretary, created a small plumbing job in Mrs Lasorsa’s room, and in your role as Customer Service Manager you arranged Horner should be the man who was sent for. Then, after he had left, you rifled the jewellery box, raised the alarm, and had an innocent man arrested. You then…”  
Fraser was interrupted by an alarmed noise from Ryder, who had half risen from his seat, “I can’t be arrested,” he cried out, “think of my family! They’d never survive if I were sent to jail. I won’t ever do anything wrong again! Just don’t turn me in!”  
“Get back in your chair,” Fraser said in such a stern tone that Ray raised an eyebrow, “You thought little of putting Mr Horner in the dock for a crime he didn’t commit.”  
“I’ll leave this city, this state! Then there won’t be any credible witnesses and the charge won’t stick.”  
“We’ll see about that,” Ray said, “Let’s hear what happened first. How did the sapphire get into the turkey in the first place?  
Ryder sighed deeply. “I’ll tell you. After Horner had been arrested, it seemed like the best thing to do was to get away with the jewel at once, just in case the police decided to search me or my room. There wasn’t anywhere in the hotel where it would be safe. My shift was about to finish, so I went to my sister’s house. Her married name is Oakley and she lives just outside Hinckley, where she and her husband run a poultry business. All the way there every man I saw seemed to be a policeman or detective, and despite the cold I was sweating buckets by the time I got there. Mr sister asked me what the matter was, and why I was so pale, but I told her I had been upset by the jewel robbery at the hotel. Then I went into the yard, and wondered what to do next.”  
“You saw the turkeys,” Fraser conjectured.  
The man nodded. “An old friend of mine had just got out of prison, where he was serving time for robbery, and I knew he’d be able to tell me how to turn the sapphire into money, but I needed to hide it somewhere before I went to see him, I was so afraid of being stopped and searched. I was leaning against the wall, and looking at the turkeys roaming the yard, and suddenly an idea came into my head.”  
Ryder continued, “My sister had told me some weeks before that I could have one of the turkeys for Christmas dinner, so I figured I’d take my turkey now, and in it I would carry the sapphire to my friend. I drove one of the birds behind a shed in the yard, a really big one, with a black stripe down its back. I caught it and thrust the sapphire down its throat as far as I could reach until it swallowed it. Then the bird started to struggle and squawk and my sister came out to see what the fuss was about. I was startled and the bird got loose and fluttered off amongst the other birds.”  
“Don’t tell me,” Ray said, “You then didn’t know which one it was.”  
“Turns out there were two birds with stripes down their backs. I told my sister I’d like to take my turkey then. We argued a bit because she’d already set one aside for me, but I persuaded her I’d prefer the one I’d been holding when she came into the yard. So we killed the bird and I took the turkey to my friend’s house.”  
“You opened it up and didn’t find the sapphire.” It was Fraser who stated it, but both he and Ray had already guessed that part of the story.  
Ryder nodded, “I raced back to my sister’s and hurried into the yard, only to find that the butcher had just come for the other birds. I asked her if there had been another bird with a stripe down its back and she said she said there was, and had never been able to tell them apart. I drove as fast as I could to the butcher, but he’d immediately passed the whole lot on, and wouldn’t tell me where they’d gone.  
You heard him yourselves today. He always answered me like that. So now I’m a thief without ever having touched the spoils.” Ryder burst into tears, his face buried in his hands.  
There was a long silence, broken only by Ryder’s sobs. Fraser and Ray glanced at each other. Ray shrugged, “It’s not my case, I don’t know anything.”  
Fraser rose and opened the office door,  
“Get out,” he said grimly.  
“What?” Ryder queried.  
“Don’t ask, just get out.”  
Ryder didn’t need to be told again. They heard his footsteps clattering on the tiles in the hall of the Consulate, the bang of the front door and the sound of footfalls as Ryder ran down the steps.  
“After all, Ray,” said Fraser, settling back behind his desk, “I am not a police officer in this jurisdiction. If Gary Horner were actually in danger of going to jail it would be different, but Ryder is correct in saying that if he won’t appear against him, the case should collapse. I suppose that makes us accessories to a crime, but perhaps we are saving someone from a life of crime. I think Ryder is too afraid to commit any further offences, he has been too frightened. If we send him to prison now, he will become a repeat offender. Besides, it’s the season for forgiveness. Detective Brady is coming to collect the sapphire this afternoon. It is up to him to investigate further. Peterson should also get his reward, but I am afraid you will not be able to say you solved a jewel heist. I’m sorry Ray.”  
Ray shrugged, “That’s okay Benny. I wouldn’t have liked doing the paperwork anyway. I just can’t believe you actually let someone go.”  
Fraser’s turned away and busied himself with Diefenbaker’s bowls, “It happens sometimes,” he said quietly, in a tone of voice Ray couldn’t quite identify.  
Ray wasn’t sure what emotional button he’d inadvertently managed to push, but quickly forgot when he recalled a message he’d been given for the Mountie.  
“Hey Benny, Ma says I have to bring you to dinner tonight to help clear up the Christmas leftovers. What do you say?”  
Fraser stood, his usual impassive self again, “Of course Ray. Tell your mother I will certainly be there.”  
“Great. I’ll pick you up at 6. Now I’d better get back before Welsh wonders if I still work there.”  
“Certainly Ray, I will see you this evening.”  
After his friend had gone, Fraser picked up the sapphire and held it up to the light, contemplating the reflections it made. Then he shook his head and put it back in the safe.


End file.
